SAYING THANK YOU TO MY FATHER

Yesterday, I was captive in a car for three hours on our way back from our little piece of heaven, the Isle of Palms, when the sprotscasters my husband was litening to on the radio made a very good point. Advertisers, and maybe offspring themselves make an enormous deal out of Mother’s Day. Give her diamonds. Chocolate. Oh, heck, why not a new Lexus? But when it comes to Father’s Day, it’s a seems to be a blip on the commercial radar.

I know this is true because when I went to pick out a Father’s Day card, there was a small section at Target, and I’m sad to say about 80% of the cards I picked up had the word “fart” in it. I found a card that is a good beginning to what I want to say to my dad, to thank him for being such a good father, and I’d like to pass along this blog I wrote a while back to let the world know what he did for me. Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I love you to bits!

I came into this world at the last-minute on the last day of the year in 1957. After two girly daughters, my parents were trying for a boy, so I’m sure they were a little disappointed until I started to grow into myself.

My dad was always outside fishing, playing golf, or working on the nine-hole golf course he had as a side business, and much of that time I was with him. He was quiet, which was great because I talked constantly. But when he said something, it was usually funny. Eat your vegetables; it’ll make you pretty like me got some great looks from friends who stayed for dinner.

He took me fishing and among all the lessons about fish families and mud turtles and water snakes, I learned patience. Watching him during real and imaginary crises that arise in a houseful of girls, I learned the importance of remaining calm. This came in handy when he taught me how to drive, because I made my mom a nervous wreck–her words. It really came in handy when I taught my children how to keep a 2000 pound killing machine between the lines.

Daddy always thought about what he wanted to say before he said it because he knew words can’t be unsaid. Sometimes it seemed like he thought these words forever, particularly if I was asking for permission to do something.

Sometimes, when my mom worried out loud about my tomboyness. My dad would say, she’s alright. I don’t know if he was defending my right to be tomboy or whether he simply didn’t know what to do with a girl like me. It doesn’t matter. Letting me be me was the best lesson, the best gift he could ever give me.

Kim Boykin learned about women and their hair in her mother’s beauty shop in a tiny South Carolina town. She loves to write stories about strong Southern women, because that’s what she knows. Kim is an accomplished public speaker and serves on the board of the South Carolina Writer’s Workshop. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her husband, three dogs, and 126 rose bushes.Chat with Kim on Facebook | Google+ | Twitter | Subscribe to My Blog